Ponyboy in a Christmas Carol
by greaserbabes
Summary: Ponyboy is in the mood for Christmas this year. Will the ghosts of Chrustmas past, present, and future be able to help him?
1. chapter 1

Three soft knocks came from the outside of Ponyboy's bedroom door, and soon enough Sodapop Curtis peeked his head in. "Hey Pony," he spoke quietly. Darry and I were about to decorate the Christmas tree, we were hoping you'd wanna join us?"

Pony, who laid on top of his bed with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, didn't even look over as he replied, "No thanks, yall go ahead." He blew smoke into the air, creating a few smoke rings.

Soda frowned. "Well...that's okay. Darry likes everything to be hung perfect anyway. You'd probably get frusturated." the seventeen year old rocked back and forth on his feet. "After we decorated the tree we was planning on watching some of those new Christmas movies. Charlie Brown, Rudolph...I watched a couple of them; they came on t.v. I think you'd like them."

"Not really in the mood for movies right now Sodapop. Especially Christmas movies. They seem kinda dumb."

"Oh..well then maybe--"

"Anything you are about to suggest I'm going to say no to." Pony finally sat up and ignored the hurt look on his brothers face. "Everything about Christmas seems really dumb. I don't know why yall are still doing these childish things."

Sodapop stared at his little brother, his mouth slightly hanging open. "Dumb? Childish...What are you talking about, Pony? Me and you always used to have the best time--"

"That was when I was little!" The fourteen year old snapped. "I hate Christmas! It's stupid and if you like celebrating it, then so are you!" Soda hung his head and left the room, obviously upset. Pony didn't care though, not in the least. He didn't understand how his brothers could be celebrating the holiday. Greasers shouldn't celebrate Christmas. Greasers should be tough, and cold hearted. Just like Dallas was telling him the night he died.

Dallas...it would be the first one without the hood. The first one without Johnny too. Pony swallowed and rolled his eyes, trying to erase them from his memory. Dally would have been proud of him for not giving into such childish celebrations. Pony took his words to heart, and really did decide to toughen up. This was also the first real Christmas without his parents. The previous one was spent dealing with their death, as they died only a month before it. That fact added another reason why he hated the holiday now.

Another knock was heard in the door, but this time, it was a lot harder and louder. Before Pony could say anything, Darry barged into the room. "Ponyboy Michael Curtis, what is your problem?"

"I don't got a problem." He answered lazily and continued to smoke. Darry furrowed his brows and grabbed the cigarette from his lips, putting it out on the ashtray that was on the nightstand. "What the hell?" Pony grumbled.

Darry ignored him and began speaking. "You really hurt Soda's feelings, you know? Do you even care?"

"No, I don't care." Pony answered simply. "Maybe if he was tough then his feelings wouldn't be hurt."

His older brother snorted and turned around. "You wanna be an ass, fine. See if he cares about you as much."

Pony followed him out of the room. "Tell my brother who won't care about me that he can sleep on the couch tonight!" He screamed and then stomped back into his room, slamming the door. As soon as he door was shut again, there was a loud thud on it, coming from the outside. Pony yelled in frustration and yanked open the door. "Darry! Go..." he paused when he saw who it was that was behind the door. "D..Dally?" Pony rubbed his eyes, but when he opened them again Dallas was still there. Well, sort of Dallas. He was sort of pale and kind of translucent, almost...ghost like. The thought of a ghost got to Pony. He yelled and fell to the ground, scooting back. "Please don't hurt me!" The ghost tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, staring at Pony. "You're not real." Ponyboy took a shaky breath. "You died months ago. I watched you die. I'm hallucinating. I'm hallu--"

"You ain't hallucinating kid. It really is me." Dallas trudged through the doorway and into the room, stopping next to Ponyboy. "I've come to see you."

Pony rubbed his temples, convincing himself that he was seeing things. He looked up and saw that Dally was still there, and it didn't look like he planned on leaving. Finally, Pony spoke. "W-why..." he croaked. "Why'd you come to see me?"

"You remember how I was in life?" Dally asked. "How I was tough and cruel and mean? You remember?"

"Of course I do. You told me that I needed to get tough like you, and I am! Believe me I am! I--"

"No! Don't get tough like me! I was wrong! I was stupid!" Dally yelled, his voice seeking to shake the whole house.

"You weren't stupid Dal!" Pony insisted. "You were smart. Ever since I've gotten tough I haven't been hurt."

"Pony, do you see these chains?" Dallas asked. For the first time, Ponyboy noticed the long links of chains attached to Dally's body. Each link seemed to be a handcuff. "There's thousands of them Ponyboy, probably millions. The chains never end. I have to carry them around with me for forever. They're heavy and they hurt, and they're a constant reminder of all the terrible things I did to people when I was on Earth. I get to see Johnny, who is carefree without a worry in his mind, and I'm jealous, but I know it's my own fault. The chains mean something Ponyboy. I lived an awful life, and I'm here to stop you from doing the same. When you go, I want you to be like Johnny, not like me." Dallas' body began to shimmer and fade, signaling that his time on Earth was almost up. "Three spirits will visit you tonight Ponyboy." He picked up the teen and placed him in bed. "Be ready, the first will come when the clock strikes one." His body continued to fade until he was no more.

Ponyboy stared in horror, unsure if what he just saw was real or not. Surely it couldn't have been. Dallas was dead. Dead as a door nail. There's no way he could have visited Pony. Suddenly, a wave a exhaustion took over him, as he fell backwards, entering a deep sleep.


	2. Two

Ponyboy woke with a gasp. His room was dark, signaling that he had not been asleep for too long. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table, and felt his heart stop. 12:59 a.m. When the numbers turned to one, the clock began ringing loudly. Quickly, pony pressed the off button, and looked around. There was no sign of a spirit anywhere. He tried to relax, but was still on edge. Why did his alarm go off?

Suddenly, a soft light filled the room. "Hello," said a childlike voice. "I am the ghost of Christmas Past." From the light, formed an angelic being, who floated peacefully. Ponyboy shut his eyes tight, telling himself that it wasn't real in his mind. But as if the spirit could read his thoughts, it said, "I assure you I am real. I am here to take you to your past."

"My past?" Pony scrunched up his eyebrows. "I don't..what are you.."

The spirit held out its small hand. "Just a touch of my hand and we shall go."

Don't do it. Pony's mind said, yet he felt drawn to the spirit. His arm reached out to touch it's hand, and as soon as he did it felt as if he was flying. No, he was flying. He opened his eyes and was startled to see the ground hundreds of feet below him. He looked up, and saw a the sunrise. "Spirit.." his voice came out a bit shaky. "What is that? Surely it can't be day already?"

"It is the past." The spirit answered and flew straight into the strange light.

Ponyboy shut his eyes tight in fear as they soared faster than they had before, and only opened them up again when he felt them come to a stop. He was surprised to see that he was in front of his house. Only, something seemed different about it. He looked at it and felt his stomach bubble with joy. "My..my house, but in the past?" He looked around and wondered vaguely why he was standing barefoot in the snow, but couldn't feel anything. "How long ago was this?"

"Five years ago today." The spirits voice almost seemed to sing out.

"Five years..I would be nine." He moved to look through the window, but couldn't see anything really. "Can we go in?" The spirit nodded and the world transformed a bit, until eventually they were standing inside Pony's house. Ponyboy looked around in awe. Their house smelled like ginger bread and candy canes; the way it always used to around this time of year. "Oh!" Pony suddenly exclaimed. "Look at Darry! He's so young.." he walked forward, hardly able to recognize this young version of his brother.

He was only fifteen. No sign of stress or sadness in his golden face. _"You can sit next to me Pone,"_ the young Darry spoke, and suddenly Ponyboy noticed the rest of the gang, including one small boy who ran up and sat next to Darry on the couch. _"Sodapop just wants to look cool for Steve."_ Darry whispered into his ear, causing the young boy to giggle.

Pony stared at the two, slowly realizing that it was himself as a small nine year old. "I hardly remember these days.." he said to the spirit. "Where everything was nice and carefree. Where I wasn't constantly arguing with my brothers." Pony examined each of the boys.

Twelve year old Soda and Steve were playing with toy cars next to the Christmas tree, ignoring everyone else in the room.

Thirteen year old Two-bit was sitting on the floor, watching a Mickey Mouse Christmas special. Pony laughed at that. Not too much had changed with him.

 _"Hey Johnny,"_ young Pony called out. _"You can sit with us over here."_ He pat the spot next to him, and eleven year old Johnny Cade quickly sat, leaning against his friend.

Pony watched young Johnny numbly, trying his hardest not to cry. His best friend was there, alive and well. No sign of the nasty scar he would recieve from the Socs. No sign of the burns from the church. No sign of any emotional trauma. It was just, Johnny. He forced himself to look away, not wanting to cry.

 _"Cake is ready!"_ Called out a gentle voice that Pony would know anywhere. When he heard it, he felt as if his breath had been taken away from him. He covered his mouth and slowly followed all of the young kids who ran into the kitchen. There she was. His mother, who looked as beautiful as ever, was cutting cake and talking to a very young Dally. He couldn't even focus on Dallas. All he could see was his mother.

Pony lost it, and began crying in spite of himself. "Mom.." he whimpered and walked closer, reaching a hand out to cup her cheek. His hand passed right through her, which made him cry harder. "Oh mom.."

 _"Darrel come help me pass out plates."_ His mom called out, and it took Pony a second to realize she was talking to his father. His dad walked over and kissed her cheek lightly, before grabbing a plate and bringing it over to the table.

"There is more to see." The spirits voice startled him. The world began to change again, and when it cleared they were still standing in the kitchen.

"What..what year is this?" Pony wiped his eyes.

"1962. Just two years later."

Ponyboy turned his attention to two boys who were at the kitchen table, making cookies. "It's me and Soda.." he whispered and walked towards them.

 _"I'm shaping mine into a worm!"_ Soda declared and young Pony laughed.

 _"A worm? Why?"_

Soda shrugged. _"No one would expect it. What are you making?"_

 _"A candy cane."_ Young Pony gestured to his cookie dough. " _See?"_

"This was the Christmas that Soda and I had bonded. I..I remember it.." pony smiled sadly while watching.

Their mother walked in the kitchen and praised their work. " _I'll put it in the oven for you."_ She kissed pony's cheek.

 _"Mom stop,"_ he whined.

That pushed Ponyboy over the edge. "Spirit take me away from here! I was too ignorant! I pushed her away and it was almost my last Christmas with her! I didn't. Johnny and Dally too! I didn't appreciate any of it.." he began crying. "Please take me away."

"But isn't that what you're doing now? How many Christmas' do you have left with anybody? You are taking your time now for granted too." The spirit said.

Pony continued crying. He covered his eyes and fell to his knees. But he didn't meet the hard ground. Instead, he gets onto his bed. He gasped and looked around, wondering if he were back in the present. His clock read 1:01.

One minute? He thought. That's all? But he was too emotionally exhausted to spend any time dwelling on it. He fell back and began sleeping again.


End file.
